


Layover

by TC (thecollective)



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Drinking, Drinking alone, F/M, Feelings, Jamitch, set in season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8954941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecollective/pseuds/TC
Summary: He knew the bottle of scotch was close, but he didn’t much feel like drinking alone. Not on Christmas, anyway.A little Christmas ficlet for jacksqueen16.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jacksqueen16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksqueen16/gifts).



> I don't own any of the characters depicted herein. I'm just borrowing them to bring a little Christmas cheer.

They were in the hundredth airport, in the hundredth city of their fucked up quest to fix the animal kingdom before mankind got trigger happy. Again. He took his glasses off, set them down on the counter next to him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if that would ward away the impending headache. Nothing fixed headaches nowadays. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, and lifetimes’ worth of stress could really fuck with a man. 

He knew the bottle of scotch was close, but he didn’t much feel like drinking alone. 

Not on Christmas, anyway. 

Mitch pulled out the latest notes he had on the mutations. To anyone else, it would look like gibberish, but he had years ago mastered a scientific shorthand that allowed him to write quickly (and keep his notes from being copied by nosy classmates). He stared at the scribbles. The formulas, the data, hadn’t changed. No matter how long he looked at it, he couldn’t crack the mutation. 

He couldn’t find the cure. 

Fuck. 

He missed his daughter. He missed Clementine. Now that he’d met her, seen her, held her close, all he wanted to do was be with her. He pictured a different Christmas entirely, where he showed up with more presents than he could carry—for both her and her beloved Henry—and she would smile bright enough to power the sun. 

Not literally. Metaphorically, of course. 

Instead, he was stuck on this hellhole of a plane (okay it was actually pretty nice) with a bunch of egotistical assholes (okay he was the only egotistical one) on fucking Christmas (which he had never really celebrated). There was no goddamn cure, and after the  _ millionth  _ judgmental look from Jackson, the one that said “you drink too goddamn much”, Mitch had decided to not drink alone today. 

He regretted that choice (sometimes he really fucking hated Jackson).

Soft footsteps came up behind him, and Jamie slid into the seat next to his. They didn’t talk much, not like they used to before Abe had made him abandon her in the fucking Arctic circle (actually it was New Brunswick). 

He missed Jamie. It wasn’t the constant worry, like he felt for Clementine, but he missed her just the same. “Inches away, but miles apart” as his mom would have said. 

“Hey,” Jamie said softly. Her hair fell softly around her shoulders, like waves gently brushing the shore (he couldn’t believe he just thought that). 

“Hey,” Mitch said. 

Jamie reached over the counter, grabbed the bottle of scotch and two tumblers. She poured a double, pounded it back, then poured two more and handed him one. They drank in silence. The bottle was half gone before Jamie spoke again. “I’m sure she’s fine,” Jamie said. “Clementine, I mean. She’s a tough kid.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Jamie took another sip (gulp, that was definitely a gulp because damn the woman could drink). “She’s tough like her dad.”

Mitch laughed. “Her dad’s pretty weak. I hope she’s stronger than that.” 

Jamie looked at him, really looked at him, and Mitch felt a little bit like she’d pulled away his flesh to get a good look at his insides. “You’re still here,” she said. “You could have given up, but you’re still here. So yeah, Clementine’s tough. Like her dad.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Mitch grabbed his tumbler, held it up, and said, “Well, Merry Christmas, I guess.” 

Jamie clinked her tumbler against his. “Merry Christmas, Mitch.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos & comments are love.


End file.
